Forgiven: Sequel to Sinful
by faeryespell
Summary: Oh precious one, you are the very essence of beauty itself. How have I gained such a reward for condemning the soul of your own mother? Or have I been forgiven? Perhaps so, for how can I be in damnation when I hold such a priceless treasure in my arms?


**A/N**: This little one-shot is the sequel to _Sinful_, and dedicated to _Kitty Kyon Lover _for suggesting the idea to me!! Anyway, in case you didn't read _Sinful_, this is an extract of Edward's thoughts about a significant event that occurred after he bit Bella… happy reading!! Please review!!

Forgiven

Her tiny alabaster fingers enclose around my thumb –with strength of impossible scale in human standards. But the gesture, simple as it is, brings stinging tears of venom to my eyes. A single drop falls on her pale but plump cheek, and she giggles, as if it tickles her, as if the happiness in that one teardrop seeps into his cold skin and into her undead heart. In any case, I can see the content that sets her wide, crimson eyes aglow.

I open my mouth and begin to hum my lullaby for her, as I stroke the few silken strands of her brazen hair. She is the mirror image of her mother and of me at the same time –a perfect genetic combination, as Alice puts it. Not that genetics has anything to do with the exquisite creation that lies before my eyes. She is the foundation of a pure breed, the first child to be naturally born within the restrictions of vampire laws. Oh precious one, you are the very essence of beauty itself. My love for you shall ever surpass the number of grains of sand on this pitiable planet, of stars in the galaxies that dominate the skies and beyond. My love for you shall ever dwell even as eternity ceases to exist. How have I deserved you? How have I gained such a reward for condemning the soul of your own mother? Or have I been forgiven? Perhaps so, for how can I be in damnation when I hold such a priceless treasure in my arms?

As I softly hum, her movements calm, her eyes flutter. In a matter of seconds, she drifts into the very likeness of a porcelain doll. And how very still she lies! I think that if I were a mere mortal, I would have verily mistaken her for a doll indeed. No, she is not sleeping. _Resting_ would be the more suitable word to describe the statuesque state that my little girl is in now.

I feel a slight touch on my shoulder and I look up to a pair of familiar golden eyes.

"You two look so cute together," says Bella softly, planting a tender kiss on my cheek, and another on our child's forehead.

I smile at the first love of my immortal life. "I never thought childbirth was possible for female vampires," I murmur, gazing down at the exquisite doll. "I'm glad it is."

My vision is suddenly obscured, and my lips are met with a cold, supple surface. Oh how Bella's kiss can melt away the world, how her touch can kindle a fire of intoxicating bliss in me. She draws herself back, golden eyes alight with similar feeling.

"I love you," we utter the words together at the same time. She lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Are you sure you don't want me to look after her?" she asks.

In reply, I shake my head. Then, with a last smile, she disappears, to rejoin the others outside in their games, no doubt. I had declined before the invitation had even slipped off Alice's tongue; the exhaustion is still clear on Bella's beautiful face, of having the responsibility of looking after the baby. She deserves a rest now and then.

My little one stirs, and I look down to see her eyes alive, her full rosy lips mouthing soundless words. But I can feel the change in her aura; it is more turbulent now, angry. Precious one, you are hungry are you not? At once, my eyes find the procession of bottles upon the window sill, each filled with a thick, murky liquid. I take one and slowly place its

I find it darkly amusing how my baby thrives on blood rather than milk. I shall have to teach her our family ways, help her to understand that human beings deserve to live as much as we do even though she is, indeed, little one, more beautiful than any of them.

How shall she mature, I wonder? Like a human child, shall she age? She does have the venomous blood of immortality running in her veins, so shall she grow until she is of a certain age, or shall she age, but slowly? So many questions fill my mind. So many questions fill the _others'_ minds. I can hear the taunts of Rosalie, the doubts of Carlisle. Damn the fact that Bella can hear them as well, but not me. Oh, for certain she would be much happier knowing _my_ thoughts rather than their inquiring, discouraging ones. How can they be so negative, when we are all satiated with the knowledge that a child can also befall them? Oh, my head hurts to think of all of it.

A thread-like river of blood begins to trickle from the corners of the little one's mouth. Cautiously, I use a finger to wipe her chin clean. The blood gleams on my skin, beckoning me; only after a brief moment's hesitation, I lick my finger. It is still sweet, still warm, the blood. I can almost hear the steady beating of the doe's heart; the taste is that devastatingly delicious.

Monster.

Am I really? Yes, I will believe that about myself forevermore. I may not be damned to bottomless pits of Hell, but I will always be a monster, feeding on the life of living creatures. My own precious one is a monster. Isabella, my love, is a monster, because of me. I fail to see how our souls are within salvation.

"Stop making yourself miserable," orders a stern voice. Alice's face appears before mine, wearing a disapproving sort of look. I am considerably surprised to realize that I had not heard her approach.

_Whatever do you mean? _I ask her with genuine confusion, and she shakes her head, as in to dismiss the question.

_Stop thinking that your _souls_ are damned. _The sarcasm is thick even in her mind. _Stop worrying about what's going to happen. And _please_ stop thinking that everyone is a monster. _She holds up a hand before I can say, or think, anything. _I don't care what you believe. Geez, you live such a masochistic life. _I smile grimly. That is all too true. _Just… _live_ in the moment, for once in your life. Be happy with what you have now, with what's happening now. Look at her, for crying out loud!_

I gaze down at my little doll; her crimson orbs are twinkling again, happy, content. Again, I feel my own eyes fill with tingling venom. She is so beautiful.

"You're right," I sigh. _I just can't help thinking these things. Knowing that eternity lies ahead of you, you begin to feel like every day awaits impending doom. _

Alice nods once. _I know what you mean. _

_I hope you do. _I had meant for that to be unheard, but Alice scowls nonetheless. She must have read any disbelieving frown on my face.

_I _do_, Edward, even though I'm the youngest in the family. That's what you're thinking right, that because I was turned last I don't know anything about the meaning of eternity? _

"No, Alice, that's not–"

_Forget it, I forgive you anyway. _She looks at the little one then, and heaves a soft sigh. _Just live in the moment, at least for her._

I watch Alice leave the room. The room she herself took pleasure in decorating, with meticulous overuse of the color pink. I know how much my little one means to her, and I know how much Alice means to me. And then I hear one last thought from her:

_What do you lose by just trying?_

Nothing.

Am I so proud as to wish I do not know that? Indeed, I lose nothing. But the knowledge of it pains me in some twisted, narcissistic way.

Eternity: the highway with no borders, the tunnel with no end, so humans say. With the words of Alice embedded deep within my memory as of this moment, I wonder about the builders. Metaphorically speaking, the highway is but a long paved street; the tunnel an unfathomable hole. Both were built into existence by hard manual labor. By the hands of Man.

I am a member of a dark race that holds within reach the opportunity to see the highway being paved, the tunnel being dug. So we are not a race damned, after all. If anything, we are blessed, to determine for ourselves how eternity can be molded. Yes. I have been blind to see it, but now I realize it.

My soul may no longer be in existence, but I have my conscience. I can do what I wish with life. The idea of freedom suddenly overwhelms me, and yet I find it oddly humorous how only know it does so.

The lovely head of my little one shakes from side to side, and I retrieve the bottle from her moist, bloodied mouth. She lets out a silvery peal of incomprehensible sounds, that which I will ever treasure in my undead heart. I lean forward and press my lips against her cold forehead. Oh precious one, my little dark angel, I believe it now, truly.

I have been forgiven.


End file.
